and praise his
beautiful condition (to Hogan's delight), and then, just as tattoo was
sounding, there came into the room the quartermaster's clerk with some
papers for his signature.

"What are these?" he asked in surprise. "Requisition for forage for one
private horse, the property of First Lieutenant William P. Ray, --th
Cavalry. Why, man! I own no horse."

"Them's the quartermaster's orders, sir. Lieutenant Blake got permission
to buy the horse. It's Dandy, sir, but he said as how it was yours, and
you'd sign the papers directly you got back. The forage was issued on
that understanding."

"Shure it's all thrue, sir," said Hogan. "Dandy was bought last week,
sir, and I thought as how Mr. Blake had told you."

Ray said no word more. His eyes were filling; he signed the papers,
finished dressing in silence, escorted Mrs. Whaling with entire
civility, and never heard a word she said though she talked volubly
every inch of the way; and once at the hop-room and he could break loose
from Mrs. Turner, who seized him to upbraid him for not stopping to
speak to her, and to tell him she had saved three dances expressly for
him, and she had such a host of things she wanted to tell him, and she
had been hearing such a host of things about him, etc., etc., he found
Blake and caught him by the sleeve.

"No dodging now, Blakey. _Who_ bought Dandy? Who gave him to me?"

"Well--dang it! _I_ did. Haven't I a right to?"

"No, old man; and, forgive my saying it, you and I cannot afford such
presents. What was he appraised at?"

"Oh, they fixed it low; because he was to be yours, you know. I got him
for two hundred."

"But, Blake, you hadn't ten dollars when I went away. I know full well
how much I owe you in this matter. Bless you, old man! But--the truth
now. You can afford to tell me when I say I _must_ know before it comes
to saying good-night to her. What had Miss Sanford to do with it?"

"Everything, Billy."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE COLORS ENTWINE.

She was talking brightly with a knot of half a dozen young officers, all
clamoring for "extras," when, soft and sweet, the strains of
"Immortellen," that loveliest of Gungl's waltzes, floated on the air,
and Ray stood there before her.

"My waltz, Miss Sanford. Can I claim you in face of such an array of
aspirants?"

She rested her hand on his arm, nodding blithely to the group, and
calling laughingly back to them as he led her away. Then she noticed how
silent